


And life was perfect

by theperipheral



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, ClexaWeek2017, F/F, Roommates, in a roundabout kinda way, lexa is awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:19:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10020518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theperipheral/pseuds/theperipheral
Summary: Clexa Week 2017 day 2 - Roommates (although this barely qualifies)The zombie apocalypse conspires to bring Clarke and Lexa together





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my usual style and completely out of my comfort zone, but I thought I'd throw something quick together for Clexa week.
> 
> It is what it is, it's not intended to be a quality work, just a bit of fun! Unfortunately I didn't have time to flesh it out as much as I'd like.

The zombie apocalypse sucked.

That was what Lexa Woods decided, two weeks after the outbreak. She had no idea if her friends or family were alive or dead and she was trapped in a tiny underground bunker with only a stranger for company. A stranger who, was yes, admittedly very pretty, but also very frustrating.

It wasn’t her bunker, she had to remind herself every time they squabbled about how long they could ration their paltry supply of food for, or how likely it was that they’d have to resort to drinking their own urine. Unfortunately for them, the answers always came down to: not long, and likely.

“What kind of paranoid weirdo has a fully stocked bomb shelter in their back yard anyway?” Lexa muttered from her bunk one morning, bored with the book she was reading. At least, she thought it was morning. It was difficult to tell without windows, and the days had begun to blur together.

“The kind of paranoid weirdo who let a screaming stranger into their fully stocked bomb shelter without so much as a question.”

“How paranoid can you be anyway? You didn’t even check me for bites.”

“I’m very sorry Lexa, I’ll be sure to do that next time you need my help.”

Clarke was a strange one, Lexa had come to realise. She was well spoken, had described herself as an imaginative type, an artist and aspiring writer. And yet here she was, sitting on the bottom bunk, duct taping a kitchen knife to a broom handle and drinking water out of a 40-year-old sippy-cup.  
Lexa swung her legs over the edge of the top bunk hummed at the makeshift spear in doubt.

“What?” Clarke asked, impatient under her gaze.

“That’s um… I’m not sure it’s gonna hold up all that well.”

Clarke glared.

“We need to go out and get food.”

“I know. It’s just… as soon as you jab that into someone – uh, something, the knife’s gonna rip off or get stuck.”

“That’s what the duct tape is for, Lexa.”

Lexa couldn’t find it in herself to argue, so she rolled her eyes and went to prepare a carefully measured meal of cold canned beans and long-life crackers. When she turned back to offer a plate to Clarke, she was met with a triumphant grin.

“I fixed it. See, there’s a knife at both ends now, so if one comes off, you still have the other one.”

Holding two portions of precious, disgusting food, Lexa couldn’t face-palm.

-

“Stay close,” Lexa hissed.

After another two weeks on ancient canned food, they finally decided that scavenging couldn’t be put off any longer. Well, Clarke had decided that and Lexa had gone along to try and keep her alive. Clarke might be annoying, but she’d rather not have to suffer through the apocalypse alone.

They were at a strip mall, or rather, along the back of one at the fire exits and loading bays. Clarke yanked on the handle of a door and gave a satisfied nod when it didn’t budge. Lexa, who had been busy actually looking for threats, jogged to catch up.

“What the hell are we doing here?” she demanded as her companion dropped to her knees to dig through her backpack. Lexa’s eyebrows raised as she dumped a long, heavy chain out and stood up, triumphantly holding a key.

“This is where I work. Or worked, whatever. It’s been a part of my zombie apocalypse plan since forever.”

“…plan?”

“Sure, didn’t you have one?”

“No.”

“And that’s why I’m stuck looking after your sorry ass.”

Lexa looked between Clarke’s double-ended knife-spear and her own bloodied fire axe.

“Yeah.”

-

It was a department store. Clarke was a paranoid apocalypse enthusiast who worked in a department store.

  
“It’s perfect!” she announced. They’d swept the place and found it only contained three shufflers, each easily dispatched and dumped outside. “We’ve got the shutters on the big window, and we can use the chain to keep the fire exit closed. A fool-proof plan if ever there was one.”

“Are you suggesting we stay here?” Lexa asked, suddenly catching up.

“Yep! It’s defensible, we can use the café kitchen and there’s space enough to move. Plus, the display beds haven’t been eaten by moths yet, unlike the mattresses in that bunker.”

“You realise this place is going to be a huge target for anyone alive out there, right? I’m surprised it hasn’t been looted yet.”

“That’s what the chain on the fire exit is for.”

“And what about the bunker? That was perfectly safe.”

“It was getting pretty cramped in there with the two of us. Besides, I just broke in there on my way here. You were pretty loud running from that zombie horde so I had to hide.”

“Clarke, whose food and water have we been using for the past month?”

“Hey, if they cared, they probably would have come for it.”

-

Lexa made a point of fortifying the fire exit with a little more than a chain. Thankful for the hardware department, she managed to strengthen the hinges and attached a system of padlocked hasp-and-staples to keep the door locked and secure, but also accessible should they need to leave quickly. She also propped a chair under the handle, just in case.

Meanwhile, Clarke had immediately headed to the café kitchens to take stock. When Lexa joined her later, she found her bustling around a pilfered camping stove, dancing to the low quality tones of an old cassette player. It was… endearing.

_“Make the world go away, get it off my shoulder,”_

Sensing she hadn’t been seen, Lexa settled herself on a stool to watch, chin resting in her hands. Clarke had a good voice, and this was possibly the least annoying she’d been since they met. Watching her dancing around, crooning into a wooden spoon, Lexa couldn’t help but smile. When she threw in a ridiculous Elvis move, Lexa couldn’t hold back her laughter any more.

“How long have you been there?” Clarke asked, arms snapping to her sides.

“Not long enough,” Lexa giggled, trying to stifle the sound with her hand. “What are we eating?”

“Well I’m having a double portion of hot tomato soup, but you’re not having anything after that.”

“It was a fantastic show, Clarke. When the world gets put back together, I’m sure you could have a long and prolific stage career.”

“Hm, carry on like that and you might get back in my good books.”

-

As it turned out, Lexa was right about the store being a target. A brother-sister pair rolled in and managed to smash their way through the ramshackle defences. Lexa allowed them to stay on blow up mattresses in the men’s bathroom on the condition that they leave the next day and not come back.

-

Octavia turned out to be quite likable, Lexa decided a week later. She was helpful in repairing the damage she’d caused, and she didn’t make moon eyes at Clarke like her brother did. Octavia was absolutely an asset to them and after tense negotiations, she agreed to stay if Bellamy could too.

-

They developed into a small, thriving group living in the shell of that run down department store. Shelves were rearranged to form makeshift rooms for everyone, and there was never any shortage of storage space. Clarke became the de facto leader, because, after all, it was her place. Sort of. Lexa had weaselled it out of her that her actual job before the end of times had been as a cashier. A cashier who’d had too much time to daydream about surviving the zombie apocalypse.

For now, they shared a… shelf-space. A new person, Raven, had joined their group the day before and they hadn’t had time to build a new partition for her. Clarke had offered her own as a show of good faith and been left with the choice of rooming with Bellamy, or with Lexa. Bellamy had opened his mouth, no doubt about to offer his services, but Lexa beat him to the punch.

“You can sleep with me,” Lexa had blurted, her face suddenly very red in reaction to the stares she was receiving. “I mean in my bed. You can share with me…”

“Actually, I was going to say there’s a spare blow up bed kicking around somewhere, we could probably find it,” Bellamy’s eyebrows were high on his forehead in disbelief.

“I’ll just room with Lexa since she's so desperate to have me,” Clarke had grinned, slapping a hand on her shoulder in amusement.

Lexa kept playing the moment over in her head. It was impossible to sleep after embarrassing herself so much.

“Anyone would think you have a thing for sharing a bed with me,” Clarke drawled as they lay back to back on the appropriated display bed.

“Last time was a bunk bed.”

“Same thing.”

“Hardly.”

They fell back into silence, until the mattress shook as Clarke turned over.

“Look at me,” she said quietly. Lexa opened her eyes and turned over, waiting for her vision to adjust to the gloom. “I know things aren’t the same with other people here, but we’re doing okay, right?”

“Yes,” Lexa nodded.

“Good. Because you were the first one here I cared about. So while you’re going to drive me crazy with all your worrying, you’re also the one that I care about the most.”

“Are you trying to get into my pants, Clarke?”

“You’re not wearing pants, Lexa.”

Lexa was indeed, not wearing pants. It was too warm, so she’d settled for the night in a pair of shorts and a tank top. And Clarke’s gaze was trailing up her legs, her left hand twitching with the effort of not reaching out to run over the soft skin on show.

Lexa gulped.

“Would you mind if I kissed you? I’ve been wanting to for a while.”

Lexa nodded. Then shook her head.

“Yes. I mean no. I mean, yes, kiss me. I wouldn’t mind, I mean.”

Clarke chuckled and leaned in, and the room started spinning because suddenly their lips were connected and Lexa didn’t know how it had happened but she’d moved her right hand and was cupping Clarke’s cheek. It was wonderful, and Lexa might be well aware of the cliché, but she could have sworn all the songbirds in the world burst into the most amazing melody at the same moment they came together.

“Okay,” she said, shakily. “Maybe there are some good things in the apocalypse.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at the--peripheral
> 
> I have a couple of other things in the works for the week, I hope you guys like them!


End file.
